


A Bug in the System

by Doctorinblue



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Rating May Change, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26865289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctorinblue/pseuds/Doctorinblue
Summary: Team TARDIS seems to have contracted a bug, but is anything ever that simple?
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 22
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

Yaz awoke with a headache.

She blinked up at the bedroom ceiling, mulling the feeling over. It wasn't a migraine. It wasn't even that bad of a headache, really. Or even unexpected that she'd be feeling less than stellar after they'd been moving nearly non-stop for the past three days, snatching minutes of sleep in rotation, mostly while remaining upright, and surviving on bites of food they took in the in-between (much to Graham's dismay). Yaz had spent much of that time longing for her bed, for her shower, for just a few hours horizontal to ease the soreness in her muscles, and stop the chill that had settled bone-deep by dawn.

Thankfully, the Doctor had seemed to read the situation loud and clear - for once - and had refused the King's offer of a reward banquet. She'd gotten them a lift back to the TARDIS, had bundled them all inside, and shooed them off to bed, though not before Yaz had caught the Doctor yawning widely behind her hands. She'd only smiled at Yaz, waved her off with a second and softer bid goodnight and Yaz had obeyed with only the smallest look of concern thrown of her shoulder.

She'd been in no position to argue, even if she'd had anything more to say. It had taken all of her energy to make it to her room. She'd spent most of her shower trying to not slip to the floor and let the water lull her to sleep, and had only just managed to fall into her bed in her night-shirt and pile the blankets up over her. She had hoped, as a final thought, that everyone, the Doctor included, would get some much-needed rest. 

Glancing at her bedside clock confirmed that she had gotten that rest. She'd been out of service for the last ten hours, but her body and mind still felt cloudy and heavy, taunted by the last remaining tendrils of sleep. Her arms ached as she threw the covers back. Her head pounded harder as she pushed herself upright, but she ignored all the red flags, refused to let her pain bully her back into bed, into a day not spent at the Doctor's side.

Shivering, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms, debating on whether or not she should bundle up and call out for the Doctor. Only, she really didn't want to find out she was running a fever any more than she wanted the Doctor admitting her 'fixing' had the TARDIS' environmental settings on the fritz again...so instead of calling out, instead of finding out, she pushed her legs off the bed and when she made it upright she curled her toes into the soft carpet as a reward.

The enjoyment only lasted a moment before the room seemed to sway around her. Yaz pressed her hands against the bed, curling her fingers into the sheets to fight back against the feeling. Breathing slowly, the ache built, a dam waiting to overflow...and then it did...suddenly and completely uninvited (though not entirely unwelcome) the images washed over her. She gasped as warmth flooded into her chest and seeped down into her stomach. It heated her all the way through, leaving her breathless and excited and confused all at once.

It was all flickering at first, black and white fantasy, moving through her vision as quickly as an old reel of film. The real torture began when they slowed and she could see everything her mind dared to conjure up, close enough touch, absolutely forbidden, and, seemingly, as real as the room around her. Only she knew it couldn't be...it couldn't be real.

So, why could she feel it all? The Doctor's lips were both hard and soft against hers. Her eyes were hungry and searching Yaz for something Yaz couldn't identify. Permission? She had it. The console pressed into Yaz's back, the Doctor's hands found her hips, her mouth warm and her breath warmer as she ghosted a trail down Yaz's body. Yaz felt like she was burning up, panting out a breath, and she scrunched her eyes up against the onslaught.

No, no.

She drew in several long breaths, pushed the images away until they fizzled and faded. She only felt confident enough to open her eyes when the heat had seeped back out of her and when the chills had returned. Pulling one eye open, she found the coast clear and opened the other one. What had that been about? She wasn't even sure some of that came from her, wasn't sure that her mind had wandered that far off course even in her most private dreams.

Yaz let out a shaky breath, and with trembling hands and a lot of determination, she managed to dress in her warmest clothes. She laced her boots up and headed for the door, and by the time she turned the handle the embarrassment of a few minutes ago had already faded, leaving her feeling a bit silly. Whatever was making her head ache had clearly done more to her than she had realized, and she just had to keep a tighter hold on her thoughts than normal. She could handle that.  
She could do that...she hoped.

Glancing down the hall, in the direction of the kitchen, she considered stopping by there first. Something warm sounded just about perfect, but if she settled on the coffee then the Doctor would be there quicker than quick begging her for some. Yaz already didn't have any spare energy to keep up with the hyperactive Time Lord; she couldn't imagine topping the Doctor off when she herself was running so low. She aimed herself in the direction of the console room instead and would have been lying if she said she wouldn’t just prefer to get to the Doctor that much sooner, the kitchen only would have slowed down the moments before she stumbled upon her favorite person in the universe. 

Catching her alone first thing in the morning, when it seemed to be only the two of them in the whole universe, had become a special time for Yaz. And it often left her nerves tingling and heart-pounding as well as a few cups of coffee would have anyway.  
She stepped into the console room, spotting the Doctor's legs wiggling under the console, her top half out of view. Yaz watched silently, far too afraid any noise on her end would end up causing the Doctor to try to rush out and greet her. The last time she'd forgotten about the cable in her hand, and Yaz and the boys had to spend an afternoon at the TARDIS pool while the Doctor sweet-talked the TARDIS through a second repair.

After a few moments of observation, she could just make out the sound of the Doctor muttering to herself...or maybe to the TARDIS, Yaz couldn't say for sure. She'd grown used to finding the Doctor like this, half-tucked into some part of her ship, foreign words on her lips, but usually, Yaz didn't have to guess, the words had always cleared up after a moment or two of listening. Today, all she could hear were sounds, soft and round, leaving her with the feeling of hearing a melody, even if they didn’t quite sound like one.

Yaz leaned in closer, trying to capture them into her memory to bring up to the Doctor at a later time when something below the console sparked and the song ended abruptly.

Yaz closed the gap, squatted beside the Doctor's legs.

"Doctor?" she asked, settling her hand over the Doctor's calf. "You okay?"

The Doctor's body seemed to go stiff, the muscle under Yaz's palm tightened for just a fraction of a second - short enough that Yaz could have chalked it up to her imagination if she'd been inclined. Yaz withdrew her hand, held it tightly to her chest, and debated the best course of action. Should she move? Had she simply surprised the Doctor or something worse? Had her touch crossed a line, or had the blanket permission the Doctor had given for contact been withdrawn without notice?  
Her fears melted away when the Doctor fully emerged, with her million-watt smile and a sheepish expression. She pushed herself up to her knees, gave her right hand a few shakes.

"Hiya, Yaz," she said, moving to her feet and holding out her hand to Yaz. "Up you go."

So...it hadn't been the touching that had bothered her then...

The Doctor pulled her to her feet, her eyes searching Yaz before she, at last, released her hold on Yaz's hand.

"Just a little shock," the Doctor continued as if her eyes hadn’t just tried to see all the way through Yaz’s façade "Nothing to worry about, right as rain, me. Glad to see you, though. Graham and Ryan have already been 'round. Was worried I hadn't seen you yet - not that I need to worry about you, I know you can take care of yourself, it's just - I'm rambling aren't I?"

"Just a bit," Yaz agreed, curling her fingers into her palm. The skin seemed to have absorbed the same electric shock the Doctor had just dissipated. "I don't mind, though. It's sorta sweet.”

She blinked a few times and then shook her head. No way had she just said that out loud, she would barely allow the thought to live inside her head. 

"I mean....sorry to worry you," Yaz finally said, dropping her hand back to her side. "I guess I just needed the sleep."

The Doctor studied her, seemed to understand what Yaz had meant, then just as suddenly lost it all again. 

"You humans," she said, sounding as fond as ever. "Need so much rest. It was a long week, I suppose. What with the mystery of the sacred piglet...I shouldn't have kept you all out so long...I forget sometimes." Sadness seemed to crowd around her before she chased it away with a smile that didn't make it past her lips. "So, what do you say? A day off. Ryan and Graham are a little under the weather; I figure I owe you all some time to recuperate."

Yaz nodded, glancing down the hall. "Sounds good, yeah."

“What about you, Yaz?”

Yaz jerked her eyes to the Doctor.

“Me?”

“How’re you feeling?”

“’ M’fine,” Yaz said, blinking slowly, feeling as if she were suddenly hearing the Doctor through a gallon of water.

She kept getting flashes of Graham and Ryan cozy in their beds and with just the flimsiest of excuses she felt she could back in hers in minutes. The thought clung to her, and she found herself blinking into the empty space before her, before it was suddenly filled with the Doctor's face. Her vision blurred, and cleared, only to blur again.

Yaz swallowed, her mouth dry, the room starting to spin again as the Doctor's brow furrowed. Fingers slipped down Yaz's arm, elbow to wrist, Yaz could barely make out the sensation through the layers. For something so cold they seemed to burn the bare skin where they wrapped around her wrist before settling over her pulse point. Yaz couldn't fight back the shiver that rolled up her spine and down into her toes, her heart galloped into a new and dangerous pace.

“Yaz?” the Doctor asked, concern coating the word. Her name. “You with me?”

Yaz exhaled, blinked rapidly until the room stopped spinning and the Doctor's face cleared up. Okay, one thing at a time. She met the Doctor's eyes, forced a smile, and gently pulled her arm out of the Doctor's soft grip. She could only troubleshoot two reasonable excuses for her the way her heart was pounding and the way her stomach felt all seasick despite them being on solid ground. And she wasn't exactly keen to admit to either of those at the moment, so she needed something. A distraction. Anything to pull the Doctor's focus off her and not onto chasing danger without any backup.

“Your heart’s really racing,” the Doctor said, taking a small step back, barely out of what some might call personal space. “We could run to the med-bay, I think I remember the location. Run a full scan if you-”

“No!” Yaz said, which seemed to startle the Doctor into silence. “Um – no need for that, I mean. I’m fine, just feeling a little tired.”

And sure, tired didn’t begin to explain why her head spun and her mouth went dry when there was any Doctor/Yaz contact, but as usual, the Doctor remained clueless to that train of thought, and as such, they stayed just out the darkness of that conversation. _Think, Yaz, think._

“We could….watch a movie?”

"Movies with Yaz," the Doctor said, seeming to be working something complicated out in her head before she grinned. "Sounds brilliant. You go to the media room, I'll get supplies.

Yaz watched her vanish around the corner, slightly wary of what supplies the Doctor might be inclined to collect. Her stomach protested at the mere thought of food, and her eyes suggested she'd be far better off in bed, but she found herself smiling in the direction the Doctor had just headed. At least the Doctor still had the energy of a barely contained supernova. At least someone was in their full and right mind because Yaz felt like she was losing more of herself by the moment.

She forced herself to get moving, reminded herself the sooner the lights were low and the Doctor's attention was focused on the large screen, she'd be able to relax her tight grip on pretending to be just fine. She moved past their rooms with only a quick and longing glance at her door before taking the next right. She found the room faster than she expected and sent out a wave of gratefulness she hoped the TARDIS could understand.

Her two previous times in this room had found the furniture and walls different and this was no exception. Now, there was only a single couch, long enough for two people to sit comfortably. The thought of the Doctor and her alone on that couch, under the blankets that Yaz spotted folded up on its back, settled somewhere in her gut and refused to let go. Yaz ignored it, dropped onto the far end of the couch, and toed off her boots. She tucked her feet up beside her, and worked the blanket down over her legs and was just tucking it 'round her shoulders when the door opened and the Doctor stepped in.

She balanced two mugs and a tin of biscuits, her sonic tucked between her teeth. The smell of warm chocolate and milk drifted Yaz's way, her stomach clenched, and she breathed slowly, driving the smell out with the fresh air. The Doctor watched her for a moment, and then moved over behind the table, depositing the biscuits and drinks before them. She popped the sonic from her mouth and smiled down at Yaz.

"Just us," the Doctor said, fiddling with the sonic. She adjusted it, looked down at Yaz, back at it, seemingly trying to broach a subject. "Graham and Ryan want to rest a bit longer...gave them - uh - a quick scan. Thought it best I do the same for you....if you don't mind of course."

There, behind the concern, was that pity? Did she sound disappointed that it would only be the two of them watching the movie? Surely not, the Doctor had never seemed to shy away from alone time with her. So, why were there tears prickling at her eyes? She blinked them away; surely feeling unwell must be to blame for the razor thing emotions she felt today.

"Yaz?" the Doctor breathed out, lowering herself to the couch. "What is it? Talk to me?"

The Doctor reached out, laying her hand over the top of Yaz's and curling her cool fingers into her palm.

"Sorry, Doctor," Yaz said when she was sure her voice wouldn't wobble. "Don't know what's wrong with me. Scan away."

The Doctor nodded, pointed the sonic at her, and did a quick scan. She studied it, her expression unreadable.

“Well?” Yaz asked.

“Nothing alarming,” the Doctor said, shaking her head and tucking the sonic back into her pocket. “You’re a bit warm. I think the human part of the TARDIS fam might’ve caught a bit of a bug on that last planet. How’re you feeling right now?”  
“Got a bit of a headache,” she finally said. “A bit tired. It’s manageable.”

“If it stops being, tell me at once,” the Doctor said. “Your temperature being up is probably why you’re shivering under that blanket. C’mere. We’ll share this second one. Don’t want you too bundled, but this ought to help.”

Yaz hesitated and then scooted in. The Doctor carefully worked the blankets around them. She grabbed the remote when she was satisfied and started flipping through the channels. In what felt like seconds, Yaz found her eyes closing, her head lulling against the Doctor’s shoulder. She felt the Doctor shift, an arm wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her into a more comfortable position – a warmer one.

“Thanks,” Yaz mumbled, before giving in to sleep.

After what felt like a few more seconds, she felt an icy hand slip over her head and down her neck. 

“Yaz,” the Doctor said. “Yaz, you’re burning up.”


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor hated having to wake Yaz. She needed the sleep of course, but much more selfishly, the Doctor had rather liked the familiar way Yaz had ended up with her head in her lap - even if the action had caused her to choke on air for a few very uncool moments - asleep and cuddling up as if they'd done this a few million times.

It had been nice in a way that had caught the Doctor completely off guard, and it took all her willpower to even consider letting that feeling slip away so soon. But that was all that it was in the end - a feeling. And really, she'd only just finished baking recently, and all those new feelings after rebirth couldn't be trusted simply because they were so new. New felt scary and real and intense and she knew better than to allow those feelings to decide her course....normally. But after she'd spent her formative hours, days, with her fam she'd ended up too quickly attached to her new friends, and just a touch enamored with Yaz in particular.

It would all fade away, she'd reminded herself, even as Yaz's hand had slipped up into her shirts, curled up, and held on tightly. It would all end, she'd reminded herself as Yaz's too human heat seemed to burn through her at all the points of contact. Still, she'd let Yaz sleep. She'd watch her and the movie in equal parts, and fought a silent battle between holding onto the memory of her face just like this, asleep and safe and so new, or forgetting this the moment it was over, washing it out of her mind again so it couldn't come back to haunt her years from now when she was on the run again - likely in a body that Yaz wouldn’t recognize. 

She'd been talking herself into a mental low - too much time inside her head had never been good for her, no matter how many regenerations - when Yaz had drawn her attention back onto her. She'd breathed in sharply, twisted in the Doctor's arms, her hand tangling up into the Doctor's layers again and a distressed and desperate look etched itself onto Yaz's previously calm features.

It was only then that the Doctor had noticed that Yaz's temperature had jumped once more, and that had been the thing to finally convince her that the moment - good or bad - had passed and that she had to wake her up. Taking up her role as doctor and friend felt better anyway, more sure and solid than the unknown, and it would keep the spiral at bay until she had a little more time to sort the new-oldness of her self-loathing.

The Doctor sat Yaz up gently, leaning her back into the couch. She cupped her face in her hands, brushed her thumbs over her cheeks for a moment.

Damn. Too warm.

“Yaz, can you hear me?” 

Yaz groaned, finally starting to resurface. The Doctor dropped her hands to her pockets, dug around inside until her fingers connected with the base of the sonic. Whipping it out, the Doctor gave Yaz a head to toe scan. Pulling it up to eye level, she studied the readings for a few moments, more puzzled than she had been before she had done it. She dropped her hands back to her lap, found Yaz blinking at her slowly, her eyes glassy and distant. The Doctor's hairs prickled on the back of her neck and she had no good explanation for the way her heart rate doubled.

She was in unknown territory, in so many ways, and though the sonic reading had shown no signs of a bacterial infection, not even a hint of a known virus, something had spiked Yaz's fever. Something was affecting her friends, and she couldn't have that. Even if it meant cataloging a brand new alien strain of illness, she'd get her friends well again. She wouldn't lose them. Not like this. She'd only just gotten them.  
“S’wrong?” Yaz asked after a moment. “Oh, god. ‘S it another invasion?

"You're safe, I'm the only alien here," she said, giving her a smile that probably looked as forced as it felt. "Well, I say me. You're the aliens to me. But, more on the subject, you've got a fever...well, you know, more of a fever than you did have. Don't you worry though, Yaz. Proper Doctor, me, well more or less, should probably brush up on that actually, but I haven't found the time." 

She paused, drew in a breath.

"Still know my way about a body though," she said, before regretting the words. To Yaz's credit, she only seemed mildly panicked. "We should get you to bed. To...to rest, because of the fever. You remember the fever?"

“Okay…” Yaz said, staring at her for just a moment and the Doctor could only hope that half her speech had been lost on Yaz in her sleepy haze. “You’re acting weird…er.”

“I know,” the Doctor said, with a quick nod. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Yaz said, sitting up more. “Are you? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Long list, that…”

Yaz let out a sigh but didn’t press it any further. The Doctor buried the words that kept bubbling up, trying to spill over – kept fighting back the urge to be too honest when it wouldn’t do either of them a bit of good. Instead of talking, she focused on the way Yaz pushed the blanket off, on the way a shiver rolled out from the center of her spine and Yaz stiffened to prevent a reprise.

Then, Yaz froze, her hand inches above the couch. The Doctor leaned forward, worry on her lips.  
"Yaz?"

"What about Graham and Ryan? Are they okay? Do we have some strange alien sickness?"

"Don't you worry, Yaz," the Doctor said, standing and scooping up a blanket. She waited until Yaz mirrored the movement before continuing, "I'm on my way to check on them now. We'll get a few blood samples, I'll run them through the TARDIS systems and we'll see what we're working with. But I promise you I won't let anything hurt yo- my fam."

“Right, you didn’t say no, don’t think I’m forgetting that,” Yaz said.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the Doctor said, stepping in closer. Yaz's eyes widened but she held her ground as the Doctor moved in closer still, wrapped her arms around her. She draped the blanket over her shoulders, pulled it closed at the front and held it there, trapping Yaz's heat inside with her. “Can’t have you too covered, mind, but I don’t want you freezing on the way back to your room.” 

"Thanks," Yaz said, catching the Doctor's fingers as she withdrew them. "Doctor, are we in danger? Proper danger?"

The Doctor swallowed as Yaz released her fingers, taking over the pinch in her own blanket.

"I don't know," the Doctor said, taking a step back slowly. "But I know I'm going look after you.”

"Okay," Yaz said, the tension seeming to drain out of her all at once. "I trust you."

 _She trusts you, she trusts you_ \- the words taunted the Doctor. What if she failed? The Doctor turned away from her, swallowed a few times to regain composure. She should have offered up a lie, it would have been far more comforting than the truth, but Yaz had looked so tired and sincere and the Doctor had such a soft spot for her that the lie had died on the way out of her mouth.  
The Doctor curled her hands up, focused on one thing at a time. She opened the door, Yaz on her heels, and the Doctor tried, once again, to block out any thoughts that were about Yaz and only Yaz. _Yaz was sick. Was Yaz in danger? How could she protect Yaz?_

She drew in a long breath, kept moving forward, closing the door that led to Yaz inside her mind. It didn't belong open anyway, would only lead them into real danger, into real heartache. Instead, she threw open the doors leading to Ryan and Graham, and while she'd been worrying about them as background static against the constant stream of Yaz, she now let herself feel that worry fully. She let it pull her farther and farther from Yaz, more into a proper place - her standing as protector and healer of the whole group, not just the one that made her hearts wobble.

She focused on her mental checklist, the things she still needed to do. Blood, medication, another scan. Water, juice, some soup if she could round any up. She refused to think about how much she'd like to get Yaz settled into her room, how much she wanted to make her more comfortable. The Doctor fought off the feeling again and again, even as they made it to their hallway - well, the fams. She kept her room a few dozen halls away, less danger of straying that way...

The Doctor steadied herself, pushed Yaz’s door open, and flipped on the light.

“Rest,” the Doctor said. “I won’t be long.”

She forced herself to turn away to Ryan's door, refused to look back over her shoulder to ensure that Yaz had made the three steps to her bed, that she didn't over pile the blankets on top of her, that whatever kept stealing the air from the Doctor's lungs didn't get the chance to do it to Yaz.

DW

Yaz wasn't scared, she realized as she shuffled away from the Doctor. Probably she should be. She believed the Doctor when she'd said that the things that she'd kept from her, from them, would fill up quite the list... And she should be terrified of the unknown - that a potential alien illness had taken up residence inside her and her friends - but she just wasn't. Maybe it was the exhaustion that still clung to her, weighing her down more with every step, despite the abundance of sleep. Maybe it all came down to what she'd told the Doctor, because the simple truth was, despite the way the Doctor had rapidly gone from soft and sweet to unreadable, Yaz had meant what she'd said. She trusted the Doctor completely, mood swings and all.

She worried about her friends, of course. She'd even, very briefly (somewhere around the second step towards her bed) wondered if she should hurry after the Doctor, offer to help her round up supplies. But the call of her blankets won her over, and the knowledge that the Doctor would just shoo her back to bed anyway. The Doctor just had to be the one in charge, the one that was both leading and following at any point, depending on the direction of danger.

No...Yaz would stay out of the Doctor's way for now. She'd let her check on Ryan and Graham, and she'd be on standby and ready to assist if the moment came because despite what the Doctor thought, she was as much under their care as they were under hers.

Yaz vowed the next time she awoke she’d be good for something besides falling back asleep and dropped onto the bed and curled up in the blanket the Doctor had draped over her. She briefly considered sending her family a text….just in case but decided against it.

The Doctor would get them sorted out. Yaz trusted her completely.

DW

"Nan?" 

Ryan sat up farther, blinked up into the darkness above him. Even without the light of his lamp, he could make out her face clearly. He shivered as her cool hand brushed over his fevered head and when he found himself leaning into the feeling it only grew stronger, her hand more solid instead of fading into the nothingness of a proper dream. This couldn't be real and yet...he felt her press a too cold kiss to his cheek, watched her turn away with the feeling of a dead woman's lips still burning against his skin. He sat up the rest of the way, watched her as she shuffled away from him, seeming to move on auto-pilot both in his reality and inside a memory, where she could fetch the cup of water she suddenly had and he licked his lips at once, found them dry and cracking.

She paused, looked over at him over her shoulder. 

"Have you right as rain soon, love."

"Nan," he whispered, blinking back tears. "You can't be here."

She smiled at him, knowing and wise, exactly as she had a million times when he'd been in doubt and she'd been certain and it shook him all the way through. 

"I'm right here, Ryan," she said, stepping in closer, handing over the glass of water he accepted with shaky hands. "I'm not leaving you."

Ryan gulped at the water, kept going until the glass was empty, and silently weighing his options. He could run. He should run, he knew that what had happened that night was real, and as much as this felt real, as much as he could swear it was his gran returned to him, he knew it couldn't be. Life didn't work that way, and as far as the Doctor had ever indicated, neither did the universe. So, it wasn't real, but it felt real. And the only person he could think of that might understand, that had loved his Nan as much as he had, was Graham. But he'd only worry about Ryan's mind, he'd only try to coddle him, and Ryan couldn't bear to be handled with kid gloves -if only because the kindness would shatter him with his walls already down.

That left Yaz and the Doctor. He ruled out Yaz at once, she'd be even more likely than Graham to pull his feelings from him - only she'd do it without him noticing. Too dangerous right now, he decided. So, the Doctor. But what could he say? 'Hey, Doctor, would you mind checking the dark and scary parts of my room for...' well, not monsters, exactly, but something. No, she'd worry too. Of course she would, it sounded mad even inside his own head. He drew in a long breath, carefully placed the water glass on his bedside table - he'd just have to face this on his own. Surely once he'd forced his mind to come to terms with what it already knew it would all be fine again, he'd be fine again.

He opened his mouth to say something, even if that something was only to remind her that she'd already died, that she'd already died and left him all alone with people all around. Maybe he'd just tell her that he couldn't survive this again, that he didn't have the strength to have her back, however unreal. He needed her to go, he intended to tell her to go, but when he heard the knock and watched her vanish without a word, he felt the wound rip open, as fresh as it had been weeks ago, brand new and raw all over again. No time for goodbyes, gone before he'd even finished exhaling.

He drew in a long breath, tried to remind himself that she couldn't have stayed. It didn't help, it shook him to his core, and he wanted to let it all out - the weeks of emotions he'd buried beneath all the 'I'm okays' and he wanted to rage, scream, beg someone to take all the feelings away because they were way too much for a single person to have to feel and he'd have to do it forever, every time he remembered her voice, her smell, her touch, her warmth, the way she'd saved him from himself, had loved him when he hadn't loved himself all that much.

He needed someone and he wanted no one and the knocking started up again and he blinked until the tears stopped, wiped at his cheeks until they were clear, and cleared his throat until he felt sure he could sound normal. He only had to hold himself together until he was alone again; he only had to pretend for a few minutes this time. He hoped.

"Ryan?" the Doctor called out. "You in there?"

“Yeah,” he said, the word seemed to fall out of his mouth, heavy as a stone. 

His insides ached, and his skin burned, and part of him wanted the Doctor to open the door. He wanted the Doctor to bring him tea, a bowl of soup, promise him that he’s not alone. More than all that though, he needed her to just leave him alone - leave him to the pain that was pulling him under, the pain he can’t begin to understand enough to face.

The Doctor opened the door and stepped in, her attention caught up for a moment with digging in her pockets...likely for her beloved sonic. Light poured in from the hall after her, illuminating the first half of his room, making it all too easy for Ryan to see the tension in the Doctor's features. However, by the time she'd found the sonic, turned to face him properly, she only looked soft and concerned, her focus only on him, right now, at this moment. He felt threadbare, exposed, but whatever the Doctor saw in him she seemed to understand, giving a silent nod.

"Right," she said, suddenly, all motion and energy and determination again. "Turning on the lamp."

In the extra light, he could clearly see that the second half of his room was exactly as empty as it should be, and he pulled the blanket up higher still to block out the reminder.

“Cold?” the Doctor asked. “How’re you feeling otherwise? Headache?”

He heard the sonic turn on, watched her face as she gave him a slow scan, and read the results before turning her attention back to him.

“Ryan?”

“I’m fine,” he said, swallowing. “No headache…what’s’say?”

“Fever, same as Yaz,” the Doctor said, dropping the sonic back into her pocket. “Wait here, I’m going to get a quick blood sample from you all, and then we’ll get you some medicine.”  
Ryan nodded, ready to be alone again, afraid to be alone again. 

“Ryan?” the Doctor said, shifting her weight for a moment. “Is there anything else bothering you? Maybe I can help…”

“No,” he said, before sighing. “No…well, it’s just….the last time I was sick, she’d been there you know? And now, now she’s just…not.”

He regretted the words the moment he’d said them, and he snapped his mouth shut before anything else could join them.

“I know, and I am truly sorry,” the Doctor said. “And I know it’s not the same, this way, in the TARDIS with me and Yaz and Graham, but we’ll look after you, after each other, Ryan. You’re not alone, I promise you that.”

He glanced at the spot his Nan had been only moments ago and vowed to let it go again, let her go again. It wasn’t the same, in the TARDIS, with the family he’d sort of just…found, but Nan would want him to lean on them, to trust them, so he promised her that he would, that he’d make her proud still.

“Ryan?”

“Yeah?”

“Anything else you need to tell me?”

“No,” Ryan said at once. “Course not, is that blood sample going to hurt? Only I don’t really like people taking my blood-”

DW

"Granddad. Wake up, Nan made breakfast."

Graham groaned, rolled over, and buried his head into his pillow.

"Not now, Ry-"

He froze for a moment, until the adrenaline hit his veins and burned a searing path all the way up to his brain. He found himself wide awake all at once. Swallowing, he lifted his head to look at the little boy beside his bed. He was maybe eight or so, bright-eyed and looking every bit as real as the Ryan he knew now. Only, Graham had never known him at this age, knew this image must have been stolen from a few dozen pictures he'd seen in an album that Grace had loved to pass around.

"R...Ryan," he said. 

He reached out slowly, expecting...well, he didn't know, exactly. Possibly for his fingers to go right through, like touching a ghost, causing the image to blur and blow away. Instead, his fingers connected with Ryan's face. The poor boy looked about as confused as Graham was feeling, but he slid his hand down over the cheek, down to his arm to squeeze. Bones. Muscles and skin and bones. All of it as real as his own, despite his mind screaming at him that it just couldn't be. Ryan wasn't a little boy, he was a young man.

“Love?”

Oh, god. Her voice. He'd heard it since then, of course. In a few voicemails he'd never found the courage to play for Ryan - torn between trying to spare him the pain and wanting to keep it all to himself. But none of that had hurt as badly as seeing her standing feet away, as if she'd never left, as if she'd been right here all along. 

He looked up at her, as she stepped in closer to the bed, to Ryan. Placing her hand on Ryan’s hand she smiled.  
“Get up, sleepy,” she said. “Your grandson has something he wants to show you.”

Graham knew that he really shouldn't, but he threw the blankets back anyway. However, when he'd sat up, everything had changed before him. There, in front of him, was now a busy street. He could smell the fuel, hear the cars rumbling by. And there, just on the opposite side was a slightly older Ryan and Grace. She held Ryan's hand tightly, and with her other one she reached out to him, beckoning Graham to come to join them on their side.

He pushed himself to his feet, looked left, and then right, waiting for a pause in the traffic. He'd cross the street, if nothing else to prove to himself that this was all an illusion...a hallucination...a product of his fever. Whatever it was, it was torture and he needed it to end as much as he silently begged for it all to stay...just a few minutes longer. Let him kiss Grace one more time, remind her that he loved her....let him touch her hand, her face...he had to cross the street, he couldn't bear it any longer.

He took a quick step into the road, but a horn blared and made him stumble the few steps back to his bed. When he'd recovered his footing, looking up again, they had already changed. A ladder, an older Ryan climbing up, Grace standing at the bottom. She threw a glance over her shoulder, smiled in the way that'd always made him weak at the knees.

“Come cheer your boy on,” she said, holding out her hand once more. 

He hurried over to her, nothing else to stand in his way. Her hand was warm and solid in his and when he looked up he could see Ryan as he made one careful step and then another. Graham couldn't explain any of this, explain how he was sweating in the sun, watching the boy he loved more than life with the woman he loved even more than that, but here he was. He looked at Grace, with a few million words on his lips, when Ryan slipped.

He reacted at once, letting go of Grace's hands, he dove out. It all vanished, leaving him falling onto the floor instead, palms against his plush carpet and he let out a quiet sob.

God. He missed her.

“Graham?” 

The door burst open, Graham looked up to find the Doctor standing in his doorway framed in the light from the hallway.

She looked real too, but he found himself doubting what he saw, what he heard.

“That you, Doc?” he asked.

“You cried out,” she said, crossing over to him, squatting down at his side. “Are you okay? Did you fall? Are you hurt? Let me look at you.”

He rolled his weight back onto his heels as she took his hands into her own, gave them a once- over, looked into his eyes by the light of the hall, and at last pulled out the screwdriver. He stared at a spot behind her while she read the results, while she helped him back to his feet.

“Doc,” he said, after a moment, blinking back the tears. “I saw her. Her and Ryan.” 

She froze beside him, halfway back to his bed. 

“Grace?” she asked.

He nodded. 

She let his arm go slowly, pulled her sonic out once again, and did a slow spin in his room while scanning. She read the results and then ran it over him again.

“Faint traces of something,” she said, after a moment. “Energy...let’s get you and the others to the med –bay and I’ll look into it more.”

“I’d never even seen him younger,” Graham said, letting her move him slowly towards the hall as if she were escorting her elderly father. “Outside of pictures, but he was right there, Doc. Called me granddad and all.”

“Graham….you know….what I mean to say is-”

“I know it wasn’t real,” Graham said after a moment. “Just hurt like it was.”

“I’m so sorry,” the Doctor said, lowered her hand to his and gave it a squeeze. “If you want to talk after we get this sorted…but first-” 

She stopped at Ryan’s door and started knocking.


	3. Chapter 3

Yaz stared up at the ceiling, the lights dimmed nearly all the way down, leaving her with only the machines to see by...including the large one in the corner, with the flashing red light to indicate that their blood samples were still being scoured for alien pathogens. She'd been stuck in here, lying on this bed for what felt like hours now, ever since the Doctor had gathered them up from their rooms with no explanation and brought them to ‘wait it out' inside the newly remodeled med-bay. She had gotten them all settled onto the narrow beds, a little too high off the ground for Yaz's liking, and had produced pillows and blankets to help keep the chill of the room from reaching them.

But that chill had faded from Yaz. It had been replaced with warmth that had flooded through her body as she'd watched the Doctor care for them. She'd moved from Graham to Ryan, using soft tones and kind words, examining them, taking their blood samples, and then soothing away the nonexistent pain it had caused with a stroke of her cool fingers over their fevered skin.

She'd saved Yaz for last, repeating the motions she had just gone through with the boys, only, at the last moment, she'd slipped her fingers into Yaz's curled hand, and had squeezed it tight just once before letting her go and turning away. Yaz had blinked down at her hand while the Doctor had gathered up the medication - a bright blue concoction that had tasted faintly of something sugary and fruity, even if Yaz couldn't place the fruit- and assured them that it would have them feeling more themselves until she could get their tests results analyzed.

Yaz had believed the Doctor. Of course, she had. Even if, when the Doctor had handed out the little cups of medicine, her brow had been all furrowed and she had looked so worried that it had taken all of Yaz's waning willpower to resist the urge to reach out and smooth away the tension there. She'd gulped the cup and flopped back on the bed instead, curled up her fists at her side, and let the Doctor offer them one last dose of bedside manner - Yaz had wondered, in the silence of her head, if every version of the Doctor had reacted like this in times of crisis, if they'd taken care of their companions with as much attentiveness as her Doctor did now - before she had scurried off, promising she'd return to them soon.

She shifted, found the bed to be as unyielding as it had been the last time she'd decided to wiggle around, her bones were aching now at the points of pressure. Yaz considered getting up, yet again, unsure of how much time had actually passed, angry with herself for forgetting her watch on her bedside table. She needed it in the TARDIS more than she ever had on Earth, often lost track of the minutes inside these walls, seemingly burning them all up at once, and yet only inching forward, as if the TARDIS occupants were frozen in between one Earth minute and the next. So, in the darkness, she'd tried to judge time by her breaths, by the changes in the hum of the TARDIS, but she still couldn't be sure if the Doctor had actually been gone hours or it only seemed that way.

Her mind kept returning to the what-ifs. What if that mystery energy was dangerous? What if the Doctor had been hurt somewhere in the TARDIS and was left all alone while they slept, while they waited, and Yaz knew she couldn't bear sitting still a moment longer. Yaz rolled her head to look at the other two beds. Both Graham and Ryan appeared to be asleep, blankets pulled up to their chins. She sat up slowly, thankful when the world didn't spin around her. Shifting the blankets off, she slid her feet over the side of the bed, and when neither of them had stirred behind her, she slipped down all the way until her stocking feet connected softly with the floor.

She stood up, turned to face the other beds, and waited to see if her movements caused them to wake. When she felt safe enough she started for the door, suddenly in a hurry to make it to the hall, to outrun the sudden doubt that was racing around her head, that little voice of reason reminding her that the Doctor had said to wait, had expected them to wait. But, Yaz just couldn't... not with the Doctor facing the unknown alone, not when the Doctor had a self- sacrifice complex bigger than the inside of the TARDIS...not when she just didn't know...

Halfway across the room, she faltered, letting out a slow exhale. She fought back the irrational worry, the one that nagged deep inside her mind, the one that said that the TARDIS would stir to life, alert the boys, or worse the Doctor to her half-brewed plan. The rest of her knew better, knew that it would take far more than Ryan or Graham waking to stop her from seeking out the Doctor - the rest of her drew up all her courage to the surface and got her feet moving again. When the door opened in front of her with a soft whoosh, Yaz felt stronger, more sure of her choice, and stepped into the hall without glancing back over her shoulder.

They'd be safe without her...

The cooler air of the hall washed over her, but Yaz didn't find herself shivering this time. In fact, she realized as she came to a sudden stop, she didn't feel fevered at all any longer. She blinked a few times, realized her vision had lost the blurring around the edges. Her muscles no longer felt both heavy and weak, and Yaz grinned to herself when she realized that she now had good news as an excuse to find the Doctor. With any luck she'd find her distracted but safe, they'd get the all-clear and they could forget about all this. They could go back to planets and moons, and the adventures they shared as a group...and back to those tiny moments, snatched in the in-between - when the whole universe seemed to be hanging in the space between the Doctor and her, where Yaz burned willingly under hazel eyes and unspoken words.

Yaz started off again with renewed purpose. She checked each hall on the way, glanced into the rooms where the door would open, but still didn't find the Doctor for a long while. In fact, it was the Doctor who found her, when the door behind Yaz's back, the one that had been locked when Yaz had jiggled the handle moments before, suddenly opened and Yaz turned just in time to see the Doctor stepping out, distracted by a cloth in her hand and the readings on the sonic. When she spotted Yaz she shoved them both in opposite pockets and closed the short distance between them.

“Yaz?” the Doctor said. “What are you doing up?”

"Looking for you," Yaz said, trying to get the Doctor to meet her eye, trying to show her that she was okay. "The boys were asleep, and you'd been gone a long time. I just wanted to make sure you were okay...are you okay?"

"Me?” the Doctor asked, with a grin, the worry seemingly forgotten. “Always, okay, me. Well, if you’re here, you might be able to help.”

Yaz nodded eagerly, more than a little surprised that the Doctor hadn't put up more of a fuss about her being up and about. Still, she was feeling better by the moment, and it was possible the Doctor could sense that. Maybe she was just eager for help....or, maybe she just wanted Yaz to stay?

“Really glad you’re here, Yaz,” the Doctor said, taking her hand pulling her down the hall.

Yaz let her lead her deeper into the TARDIS until at last, they’d found the hall that held their bedrooms.

“Doctor?”

"The energy," the Doctor said, apparently ready to explain now. "It keeps leading me back to here...back to your rooms."

"You think it's something to do with us?" Yaz asked, looking at her door and then the others as if she expected something to just appear and explain itself. She shook her head and returned her focus to the Doctor. "Do you think it's something to do with our sickness because that's what I wanted to talk to you about -"

"Brilliant, Yaz," the Doctor said, cutting her off. "It must have something to do with that, I just haven't figured it out. I will though, don't you worry. Let's check your room again; you can help me spot anything that seems out of sorts."

She grabbed her hand again, and Yaz swallowed roughly a few times around the heartbeat at the base of her throat. She let the Doctor tug her gently into her room, where she finally released her with a smile.

"Check that side, I'll check this one," the Doctor said, heading for the farthest corner.

She moved to the opposite side of the room, glanced over her shoulder at the Doctor before starting out on her own search - even if she wasn't entirely sure what she might be searching for...what kind of residue did mystery energy leave behind? She checked the wall, the ceiling, the floor. She checked the chair that she'd tossed her nightshirt on, the nightshirt itself, but nothing seemed to be out of sorts. Yaz moved closer to the bed, checked the foot of it, and then headed back to the wall, when she froze, her breath caught in her lungs. 

There. There was something she'd not seen before, and actually, she wasn't sure how it wasn't the first thing both she and the Doctor had spotted as they entered the room. The wall had a cut, thin but long and deep, running all along from the foot of the bed to the head, around the top of the bed, stopping at her door frame. She motioned for the Doctor, inched in closer to it, leaned to study it.

“Yaz?” the Doctor said from behind her.

Yaz felt her move into her space, and the rest of the air in her lungs burned up, and she gulped in another silent lungful as the Doctor's hand brushed over her back, and she settled in right beside her, their arms touching, and despite all the material between them, Yaz felt the contact deeply. She suddenly felt far too hot, like she couldn't swallow around her own feelings, and her eyes followed the Doctor's hand as it reached out, her fingers as they ran slowly down the cut.

She worried her thumb over it, and Yaz watched it dip down into the valley, back up to the ridge only to repeat. She knew the Doctor was simply trying to get a read on it, trying to figure it out, but Yaz felt indecent - as if she had to look away. So she did...and she stared at a spot just above the cut, focusing on breathing while she waited. And waited. At long last, the Doctor dropped her hand back to her side and turned her head to look at Yaz.

“Odd,” she said, her breath ghosting across Yaz’s cheek, making her shiver in a way that had nothing to do with her previous fever.

“Yaz?” the Doctor asked, that look of concern crossing her face again. “Maybe we ought to get you back to the others? I’m supposed to be looking out for you.”

She smiled over at her, reaching out and curling her fingers around Yaz's before slipping their hands together, slotting her fingers between Yaz's and squeezing. Now, the room did spin and Yaz tried to grasp at her memories. Had the Doctor ever shown this much affection at one time? Or even one day? A week? But when the Doctor met her eyes again it didn't seem to matter much if she'd done it before, the only thing that seemed to matter is that she didn't stop it now. Yaz refused to dwell on it, refused to break the moment apart by over thinking. It didn't matter anyway, not with the Doctor's warm hand around hers, not with their fingers fit together as if that was the only place they'd ever belonged.

She let the Doctor lead her around the bed, back out into the hall. Yaz trusted her, would always follow wherever she led...

DW

Ryan groaned, buried his face into the pillow, trying to ignore the hand on his shoulder. After a few moments, where he danced on the cusp of returning to sleep, he realized that the hand wasn't going to go away without action on his part. He'd have to face it, even if it turned out to be his Nan again. Maybe, like the last time, she'd simply fade away, leaving him alone again. Maybe...He took in one more long breath through the filter of his pillow, ready to smell the memory of her perfume, ready to shatter, but when he lifted his head and looked over his shoulder he only saw his grand - Graham looking down at him.

“Ryan,” he said, cautiously. “You with me, son?”

Ryan gave a short nod, shifted to look at him. He watched Graham's focus shift off him, to the spot just out of sight that Ryan knew must be the door and then back to him again. He swallowed, his throat bobbing clearly, and Ryan felt himself growing more nervous than he had at the prospect of facing his Nan's...ghost?...again.

"Graham?" he said, sitting up slowly, letting the blanket slip down over his legs. "'S'wrong?"

Ryan waited for him to gather his words, rolled his neck, and found that he felt better than he had before he'd gone to sleep. Both physically and emotionally, despite being completely exhausted by both earlier - especially after that brief discussion about what they'd seen in their rooms. Or, rather, what he and Graham had seen. Yaz had only ducked her head, insisted she hadn't seen anything like that had. He and Graham had shared a look, but neither of them pushed, and Ryan had little doubt he had any room to accuse Yaz of withholding information when he couldn't even find the words to properly explain what had taken place in his room or how much it tore him apart.

"Yaz is gone," Graham said at last. "Thought maybe we ought to find her...and the Doctor."

“Supposed to stay here,” Ryan said, even though he’d already slid his legs over the bed and scooted until he could stand again.

"Wait," Graham said, holding out a hand to stop Ryan from heading for the door. "I keep hearing voices in the hall. Do you hear them, too?"

Ryan froze at once, glanced at the door, and listened to the near silence of the room. He could make out the faint hum he associated with the TARDIS, the faintest sound of moving air, bringing heat into the room from a vent he never saw...but there, after a moment, he could hear them too. Voices. Plural. They were soft and sounded impossibly far away, but close enough that he could hear the tension in them even through the door, even without the words to match the tone.

"Think it's Yaz and the Doctor?" Ryan whispered, suddenly afraid to be heard by whoever was on the outside. "Why don't they just come in?"

Graham looked to him, emotions flickering over his features and Ryan imagined he was mirroring them all the moment. Fear, worry - if it wasn't the Doctor and Yaz, who was it? Would the people they found out there be real or imaginary? If it was the Doctor and Yaz why were they so worried, why did the air feel so heavy and tense that Ryan could barely contain the need to scoot closer to Graham until the feeling broke one way or the other?

“Come on,” Graham said, nodding at him. “Only one way to know for sure. Stay close.”

Ryan didn't need to be told twice, and when Graham headed for the door he stayed in step beside him. The door slid open when they reached it, the air in the hall blissfully cool as it rushed into the warmer space. They stopped, seeing that it was, in fact, the Doctor and Yaz standing just outside the door, deep in a conversation that ended as soon they'd spotted Ryan and Graham standing there staring.

“Doc?” Graham said. “What’s going on? Yaz?”

Yaz turned to face them with a smile.

“We’ve got it figured it out,” Yaz said, shrugging. “The Doctor says we just have to stay in the med-bay a bit longer and she can purge the energy from the ship.”

“Ten points to Yaz,” the Doctor said, beaming at her, and then turning to face them. “Alright, fam awam…nope, not doing that again. I think the energy must just be a tag-along from one of our previous adventures, nothing to do with the illness. You just caught a bug, the TARDIS alerted me to the results as we were investigating.”

Yaz nodded, headed back into the room. Ryan watched her climb back onto the bed she'd previously occupied and smiled back at them. She looked better, more herself, alert, and focused again, and Ryan had to admit that it gave him some of his own confidence back. Yaz's trust in the Doctor was infectious and it wouldn't be the first time Ryan had caught it in the middle of a moment of nervousness.

He followed her back into the room, back to his own bed, slipped his hips on the edge, but didn't pull himself fully onto it. Graham came around and stood close to him instead of returning to his own bed to rest. Ryan glanced over at him, noticed how stiff Graham remained, how his eyes kept falling first on Yaz, and then the Doctor as if he was trying to work out a puzzle without the final piece.

Ryan ignored it. It was easier than picking it apart. Not that there was anything to pick apart in the first place. It was just the Doctor, and she was always more than a little weird. And Yaz...Yaz was just Yaz, he saw nothing to worry about there....so why did Graham keep looking like that, why did he keep standing so close to Ryan as if he might have to step in between him and his friends as if they were in true and proper danger.

When the Doctor drew his attention away from Graham, the worry faded away. He watched her sonic the door to the med-bay, watched it close, and heard a soft clicking noise from somewhere in its depths. The Doctor spun away from them, moved along the machines, stopping near, but never looking at the one that was now flashing green. She didn't even seem to notice that their blood results seemed to be complete. Then again, Ryan supposed, if she already knew the results, why did she need to look?

“We’ll have you sorted soon, gang,” the Doctor said, throwing a smile over her shoulder. “I promise.”

DW

The Doctor leaned back against the wall and scrubbed a hand down her face. Without the constant gaze of one companion or another, without Yaz here to spot the first sign of her weakness and sympathize with it so...sweetly, she let her head drop, tried to pull her shoulders back down against the tension that had knotted up the muscles so tightly. It didn't seem to help. The space behind both eyes still seemed to pound in time with her hearts, which themselves felt fast and uncoordinated in a way that should have been more worrying to her than it actually was.

Even the heavy feeling in her muscles, the warm ache that accompanied her every step, didn't seem to bother the Doctor near as much as not finding the answers she'd been seeking for the last couple of hours. How could she return to the group without them? She was supposed to be their protector, she was supposed to save the day, and sure, she knew she'd fail to live up to that someday, but that someday wasn't supposed to be today...it couldn't be today.

No, she wouldn't stop. She couldn't give up. It didn't matter if the traces of energy were nearly gone, it didn't matter if she had more than a dozen questions working their way through her brain, she'd get it figured out for them...and if she were lucky, something she often wasn't, the feeling of dread that hadn't let her get a full breath was just misplaced worry, her brain's attempt to protect her...nothing more.

Maybe that was it, maybe she was just a tired and worried old time lord, who'd seen far too much, and loved far too many, and all those losses, because she always lost, burned inside her, drove her to places she didn't need to go. Maybe it was only that...  
She pushed herself upright again, took in a long breath. She had to stay focused, she couldn't keep bouncing between the feeling of doom, and the memory of Yaz's smile. She couldn't focus on saving them if she couldn't stop thinking about Yaz. She tried, and failed again, to stop worrying if Yaz was asleep and if her dreams were good ones. Did she miss the Doctor at all, even half as much as the Doctor was missing having her at her side?

Such dangerous and forbidden thoughts kept exploding across her consciousness, and it kept her from moving any faster, from drawing a line connecting the few clues she’d been given and the Doctor tried, yet again, to expel Yaz from her mind.

She jerked to attention as someone rounded the corner...and the Doctor bit back a curse when she saw it was Yaz - the person she wanted to see most and least of all in her...altered state. Yaz came to a stop when she saw her, blinked rapidly, and then looked down to the hand at her side. She flexed it a few times, before meeting the Doctor's eyes again, looking confused and afraid and the Doctor never wanted her to have to look that way again.

“Doctor?” she asked. 

The uneven pounding inside her chest only grew worse, and she started over, closing the distance between Yaz and herself at once. She ran her eyes down her body, looking for injuries. When she found none, she reached out slowly, pressed her hand over her forehead, and ran the fingers of her other hand down over her wrist, stopping when she felt the beat against her fingertips. The fever was gone, but her heart was pounding rapidly, and Yaz still looked lost and far away.

"Yaz?" she said, letting her hands drop down to her side. She waited until Yaz looked at her, really seemed to see her before adding, "What is it? What's happened?"

"No," Yaz said, taking a step back, her breath coming out in pants. She backed away from the Doctor until her back hit a wall and stopped the retreat. "I don't...no, you were just -"

“I was?” the Doctor asked, her hearts dropping into her stomach. 

She held her hands up, afraid of scaring Yaz off, afraid of her bolting away from her. She moved to the opposite wall, tried to give her enough space to figure things out...in the meantime the Doctor tried to fill in the gaps. She had just..what had the Doctor have been doing that would have upset Yaz so much? Had she...imagined another her?

“Yaz?” she asked, when Yaz’s breathing didn’t slow, when her hands still shook where she had them clenched at her side. “Hey. It’s me. What’s wrong? Please, Yaz. Talk to me.”

Yaz eyes met hers again, but all the Doctor found in them was fear and confusion and hurt and the knot inside her chest grew tighter still.

“Please, Yaz,” she said, taking a step closer. Then another. “I’m right here, you’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Yaz slowly reached out to her. The Doctor froze, letting Yaz trail her fingers down over her cheek, drop onto her shoulder, then settle around her collar, rubbing at the fabric there. She stayed still when Yaz moved in a little closer, some of the panic in her features fading, her tight posture relaxing slightly.

“It’s really you?” she asked. “Not…not the other you?”

“The other me?” the Doctor asked, slipping her fingers up carefully, wrapping Yaz’s hand – the one that had latched onto her jacket – and holding it gently, stroking her thumb over the skin. “What other me, Yaz? Did you see…”

Yaz’s eyes dropped to where she held her hand, but she couldn’t seem to get herself to drop it, couldn’t seem to stop the slow movement of her thumb, couldn’t seem to pull herself away, despite knowing that she really, very really, needed to do so.

“You were…you were in our hall,” Yaz said, waving her other hand in the opposite direction. “We…Doctor…no, this…this can’t be, it was real…how do I know it’s you now when it was you then.”

The Doctor let out a breath, didn’t fail to notice that Yaz still held onto her, that she had moved in a little closer as if trying to ascertain if it was really the Doctor, and the Doctor wanted to do something, anything to prove that she was real, but she couldn’t think of a single thing that wouldn’t scare Yaz away from her.

“Yaz –“ she started. 

“Doctor!”

Graham’s voice rushed over them, and both of them jerked their eyes to the direction of the sound, breaking apart at the hands.

“Stay with me, Yaz,” the Doctor said, looking at her. “I promise it’s me. Don’t go out of my sight.”

Yaz nodded, and the Doctor grabbed her hand, focused now only on saving her…saving them, from whatever was happening.


End file.
